


Hair Like Starlight

by theowlgalaxy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Tangled, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Star Wars/Tangled Crossover, Tangled AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theowlgalaxy/pseuds/theowlgalaxy
Summary: "Long long ago, a drop of sunlight fell from the heavens and grew into a magical golden flower. This Flower could heal all wounds and cure all sicknesses with the right words or the right song. People used to travel to the forest of the Flower searching for the flower's healing ability, but for centuries Sheev Palpatine hogged the power all to himself in order to keep himself young.However the Flower couldn't be hidden forever. Young King Anakin finds the Flower and uses it to save Queen Padmé and their unborn children. When the children are born, one is born with beautiful golden hair.Palpatine wants the Flower and its power back--no matter the cost."This is a Tangled AU with Luke as Rapunzel, Rey as Flynn Rider, and Palpatine as Mother Gothel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who hasn't watched Tangled, here's a quick summary of the story: 
> 
> Mother Gothel is a woman who lived for centuries hogging the power of the golden flower, but then the king of the nearby kingdom uses it to save the queen, who is pregnant with Rapunzel. When Rapunzel is born, Mother Gothel kidnaps her as raises her as her own, never cutting Rapunzel's hair because it turns brown and loses its power if she does. Mother Gothel scares and emotionally abuses Rapunzel into never leaving the tower until she's 18, where curiosity and hope overcomes fear as she decides to chase her dream.

_**Part 1 — Where it all began.**_

_500 years before…_

Dark clouds loomed over the wastelands. Withered tree trunks and shrivelled shrubs shuddered against a backdrop of dulled brown and grey, their roots buried deep into the  dry cracked earth. The parched land dipped into an empty channel, where an extinct lake once resided. Dust swirled in the wind, halted by nothing and no one with nothing and no one there to interrupt its dance. Thunder rumbled and threatened, but the rain never came.

It was a dead place. No plants grew. No animals lived. No life survived beyond that on a bacterial level. Just miles and miles of dry soil that hadn’t seen a drop of water in centuries.

Then that changed.

In the clouds above, something moved from within their dark curling masses. A yellow glow shifted in the darkness and roaring thunder. The light broke through the cloud layer and fell down towards the earth. A golden raindrop—a drop of pure sunlight—rained down from the heavens and splashed onto the exhausted ground. It sank into the cracks as the earth gulped it down.

Thunder rumbled once more, except the sound was different from the ones in the past centuries. It made the ground shake and the dust tremble. The atmosphere shivered and the wind became heavier, a weight grasping onto the air. Anticipation laid thick across the wastelands as everything stilled and looked up. And waited.

Diving from the heavens and through the atmosphere, the first drop of rain in centuries fell from the sky and broke the spell the moment it touched the ground. A torrent of rain gushed down from the clouds, the thirsty earth gasping as it drank the water up. Rain flooded into the cracks and soaked into the soil, dragging the dust down so the air could feel fresh and the wind could fly lighter.

After the first three days of torrential rain, the land sighed in relief and allowed its children to sprout and grow again. In the spot the sunlight had fallen, the dirt shifted as it was pushed out of the way. A small green sprout reached up and opened its leaves to a revitalising storm. It grew rapidly—as if a year had been compressed into a single minute—and from its bud bloomed a beautiful golden flower. The petals shimmered with light that rippled down the stem, through the roots, and into the soil.

Suddenly plants burst from the ground and soared for the sky, their growth accelerated by the pure sunlight. Shades of green spread across the land like watercolour. Flowers blossomed, grass shot up, and trees grew to over a metre high.

Then it slowed to its natural pace, and life began once more.

 

_200 years before…_

The thick canopy of the wild woods prevented most of the moonlight from reaching the forest floor. The wind rustled the trees, the nocturnal animals scuttled and swooped, and the river gently babbled—but otherwise the night was quiet.

A stick snapped and a nearby rabbit’s ears twitched as it stood on alert. The bushes shook as a red glow slipped between the leaves. When the disturbance drew closer, the rabbit lost its courage and ran, weaving between the trees and out of sight. The shrubs parted as a pale withered hand shoved and forced a path open. A dark figure stumbled through while the glow swung back and forth in his other hand.

The figure trembled as a coughing fit seized him, throwing his whole body until the hood of his cloak fell back. In the crimson light of his lantern, the deep lines and leathery skin of the old man were emphasised. His head was crowned with thin grey hair as brittle as caked mud, and his icy blue eyes were rimmed with red.

The old man scowled as he lifted his hood back up, with his face still visible. That coughing fit felt like a punch from inside his ribcage. His hatred for his decaying body grew with each ache and pain it accumulated by age. The handsome face the wenches and harlots used to fawn over had shrivelled like an old rotten fruit, so that now even the most hideous hags turned their noses up at the sight of him. Clutching his cloak tighter around himself, he trudged on.

Other men like him and before him sought out methods of restoring themselves to their former glory. The Fountain of Youth, the Philosopher’s Stone, the Holy Grail, the Moon Rabbit—all just utter delusions the common man chased after in desperation, to outrun their inevitable demise. And Sheev Palpatine? He wasn’t that foolish. There needed to be absolute certainty behind anything before he made a village idiot out of himself pursuing some fanciful notion. He was cunning and well-versed enough to distinguish between knowledge buried in a fairytale and a raving lunatic spouting nonsense.

Research into old legends had led him here—into an impossible forest only three hundred years young. Local songs and spoken stories indicted that this place had been nothing more than a wasteland three centuries ago, before a downpour that lasted seven days. Walking through this forest now, Palpatine didn’t need to see how vibrant the fauna was to know the legend was true. He sensed a power that coursed through the roots; the veins leading to the beating heart at the centre of it all. He tracked the flow and stalked further into the woods.

Palpatine felt his excitement build up the closer the pulses became. His aches muted by his anticipation as he stepped over thick unearthed roots and broken-off branches at a hurried pace. His lantern swung on its handle faster. Its ominous red light swayed with it and stained the surroundings black and blood-red. It had to be near. The source of his salvation. It was close, he could _feel_ it.

Then at last, he saw it.

A yellow light glimmered in the darkness, like a star fallen to the ground. Palpatine hurried towards the light, pushing his way from bushes and branches and anything that had the audacity to get in his way. He clambered over a fallen trunk into the small clearing. Awed, he set his lantern down as he dropped to his knees before his prize.

He held out a withered hand to caress the golden petals of the Flower—the one said to heal all wounds and cure all sicknesses; the one that could return his youth. Its light grew brighter under his touch, as if it could feel his pain and wanted to alleviate it. In its glow, his icy eyes looked like they were bright yellow.

A toothy smile spread across Palpatine’s wrinkled face as a deep laugh cackled out. The Flower was now his, _and his alone._

 

_5 years before…_

The woods had become tamer over time; the shrubs not growing as thick and the foliage not as vibrant a green as before. Some forest-frequenters blamed lumberjacks for chopping down too many trees. Others pointed their fingers at hunters for killing too many wolves, which resulted in an overpopulation of deer and rabbits. The rest didn’t care. It meant the forest was easier to travel through, which saved time and effort.

A beautiful young woman strolled through the woods, now known as the Ahch-To Forest. Her long brown hair fell in loose curls down her back, with some of her hair curled into buns beneath two yellow hair nets. Her bright brown eyes gazed upon her surroundings with wonder, a smile poised on her fair refined face.

The young woman wandered away from the road cleared through the trees and off into the wilderness. She lifted the hem of her floor-length yellow dress as she stepped over an aerial root. The veiling of her sleeves and the corset were embroidered with pink flowers, and the floaty cloth from her waist down glimmered with white polkadots. Her eyes swept the ground every now and then, occasionally ducking down to peek under certain bushes and into hollow trunks.

‘ _Your Majesty!_ ’ A voice called out in the distance. ‘ _Queen Padmé, where are you?_ ’

Padmé ignored the shout and ventured on. She let out a mischievous laugh. She felt like a child again, who had disobeyed her carer’s instructions. She had every intention of not only leaving them behind but of getting lost too; for the thrill of it and to finally have a moment to herself.

Padmé stepped through some bushes and found herself entering a clearing. She let out a gasp as she admired the large flower patch blossoming in the centre. A range of species from daisies to lilies to forget-me-nots to many more. None of them yellow, though—not like the one in the legend.

The whinny of a horse made Padmé spin around. She listened as the trotting stopped, then the sound of footsteps drew closer, until the source found its way out of the woods.

A young man manoeuvred around a trunk along the tree line—he had short sandy-blond hair with a long thin braid trailing over his shoulder and his fair skin had been tanned by long hours in the sun. His eyes were blue—as blue as the sky, Padmé loved to think, just like his name—gazed at her with adoration. He wore two black tabards over his shoulders, secured in place by a dark brown obi and belt. His under-tunic was a light beige and his over-tunic was dark brown, while his trousers were a shade lighter and tucked into his black knee high boots. His posture changed slightly upon seeing her; he straightened his back more and held his shoulders back a little.

‘Padmé, there you are!’ The young man exclaimed, relief evident on his handsome face. ‘You shouldn’t run off like that, something could’ve happened to you!’

‘There’s no need to worry, Anakin. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself,’ Padmé replied matter-of-factly. ‘I don’t require some knight to follow me around like I’m some kind of child in need of a governess.’

Anakin scoffed in good-nature. He stepped into the clearing and ambled over to her. ‘I don’t doubt that, your Majesty,’ he quipped. ‘I’m more concerned for any unfortunate souls who would be stupid enough to cross you.’

Padmé mock-gasped and nudged him with her elbow. ‘Oi! That’s enough of that cheek! Or perhaps you’d like a little tour of the dungeons?’

He held his hands up in surrender. ‘No, thank you, ma’am. I’ll behave myself from now on.’

‘ _Anakin! Padmé!_ ’ Another voice called out from the forest.

Anakin’s smile faded a bit, disappointed his moment alone with Padmé had been interrupted. ‘Always, without fail…’ he muttered, before he shouted. ‘Over here, Master Kenobi!’

‘Obi-Wan is just looking out for you,’ Padmé weighed in, linking her arm with his. ‘He cares about you a lot.’

‘I know, I care about him too. He's like a father to me. It’s just that he got less fun and more… more…’

‘Mature? Wise? _Striking_?’ Padmé raised an eyebrow when she purred the last word. ‘Like fine wine, they say…’

Upon seeing the affronted, mortified look on Anakin’s face, Padmé burst into laughter. ‘That is not something a queen should say!’ Anakin exclaimed, his voice jumping in pitch.

‘Not in front of the royal court maybe, but with my best friend I can.’ Padmé unlinked their arms and walked around the flower patch. She gaze down at the flowers with great interest. Anakin would never admit it, but hearing her call him her best friend made his stomach flutter and his heart ache.

‘Why did you wonder off, by the way?’ He asked as he followed alongside her gait.

‘I’m searching for something.’ She replied simply.

Curious, he pushed for more information. ‘Searching for what?’

‘Something.’

He hadn’t failed to notice how she evaded answering. ‘Padmé, we’re been friends for seven years. You can tell me what it is,’ Anakin assured. ‘If you did, then I can help you find it.’

She looked up at him, searching his face for any trace of sarcasm or humour; he understood why. However he found that he didn’t need to force himself to be patient or to control his tone, as Obi-Wan would frequently request. When she found no discouragement in his expression, she sighed and glanced away, fiddling with her hair absentmindedly.

‘Promise me you won’t laugh…’ She pleaded. When he drew a cross with his finger over his heart, she took a breath and answered. ‘I’m… actually looking for the Golden Flower.’

Anakin furrowed his brow, silent for a few seconds. ‘You mean the one from the fairytale? The one that can heal anything?’

‘I know most people think it’s just a story, but there are accounts about travellers finding it. Some either stumbled upon it while others sought it out, but these anecdotes are consistent enough to suggest authenticity. But the reports stopped about two hundred years ago, so people stopped believing in it. I still think it’s out here, somewhere.’

‘You think so?’

Padmé nodded, an anxious look on her face. He hated seeing that look. He had his doubts about the existence of the magical flower, and she knew he did. But he didn’t want to discourage her from what she believed. So instead, he said. ‘Tell me what the flower looks like.’

Relief passed over her and she immediately began describing the lore behind the Golden Flower and the history of the Ahch-To Forest. He stayed quiet throughout the conversation, content to listen to her talk so passionately.

Anakin had just wondered why she wanted the flower when she unintentionally broached the thought.

‘Imagine what it would be like if we actually find it!’ Padmé exclaimed with a beaming grin. ‘Doctors could heal all wounds and sicknesses almost instantly. Parents will never have to outlive their children. Everyone could have time to say their final goodbyes to their loved ones and make arrangements to their loved one’s liking. There would be more time to spend on the furthering of inventions to assist those in need. It’s idealistic, I know, but one can’t help but hope and dream. You know what I mean?'

Anakin gazed at her in wonder. How could this woman be any more perfect? Beautiful on the inside and outside with a heart of just pure sparkling gold. A gentle ruler who leads her people with kindness and fairness. It was physically impossible for him not to fall even more in love with her than he already had. Before he knew it, his mouth had sprinted ahead of his thoughts and words rushed out.

‘Marry me?’ Anakin blurted. His eyes widened and cheeks reddened after he had realised his outburst. Oh no, what had he done? He just ruined everything. Now she was going to laugh at him for being a stupid kid! Or end their friendship here due to how uncomfortable he had made her. He hadn’t even told her he loved her yet and here he was, rushing out a marriage proposal out of nowhere.

Padmé stared at him, mouth agape and eyes wide. It took her a moment to overcome her surprise and collect herself, though she couldn’t control her own blush.

‘Anakin, you’re sixteen,’ Padmé eluded uncertainly. ‘You can’t legally get married yet. And what about your commits to the Jedi Order?’

‘I know, I know,’ Anakin groaned, wincing at his own blunder. He closed his eyes and dropped his head as he turned away. ‘I’m sorry. Just forget what I said. It won’t happen again.’

He took a few steps away. Mind racing, he grounded himself by tugging at his own hair.  He couldn’t bring himself to look at her in fear of what expression he would see. However, after a long moment, his self-deprecation and regret were stopped by a hand touching his arm. He turned back towards Padmé, who took his hands in hers and stared into his eyes with determination.

‘Ask me again in two years,’ Padmé instructed earnestly. ‘Then I’ll say “yes”.’

He stared at her for a moment as he processed what she had just declared. Once his mind finally comprehended it, his face lit up with the most beautiful smile. ‘I love you…’ He breathed in utter awe, as if she were nothing less than a goddess.

‘I love you too…’ She whispered back.

Then they heard a twig snap nearby and both jumped back. Anakin stepped in front of her. He drew his Saber of Light’s handle and extended out its blue crystal blade. He assumed a fighting stance faced towards the sound of approaching footsteps, crunching closer with each step. The bushes rustled and Anakin’s grip tightened. Then the foliage parted, only for them to relax.

A man in similar attire to Anakin stepped into the clearing. He had auburn hair and a tidy beard that made him look rather distinguished. He wore dark tawny robes over his light beige over-tunic and tabards secured in place by an beige obi and brown belt, while his under-tunic had a dark brown hue. His light brown trousers were tucked into his knee high boots. Gentle blue eyes sparkled as the man stepped out into the clearing.

‘Hello there!’ He greeted with an easy smile. ‘Was wondering where you two had gallivanted off to.’

‘Hello, Obi-Wan!’ Padmé beamed.

‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Oh, you know. Just chasing after a dream,’ Padmé said cryptically.

‘Definitely not trying to get away from you, Master, that’s for sure,’ Anakin teased. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. ‘Where’s Satine?’

‘She’s back on the road, looking after the horses.’ They both didn’t miss the way Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkled a little at Satine’s name. ‘Shall we head back to the kingdom soon?’

‘Just give me a few more minutes,’ Padmé requested.

Anakin stood next to Obi-Wan as Padmé resumed her search of the area. He watched the subtle changes in her expression, continuously in motion and unabashedly open. Obi-Wan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

‘Admiring the scenery, young Skywalker?’ Obi-Wan asked.

‘Shut up…’ Anakin retorted half-heartedly, refusing to make eye contact. ‘I know. “Attachment is forbidden”, yes, I’ve heard it a thousand times. Nothing will happen, I assure you.’

‘Anakin.’ Obi-Wan implored gently. He put his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and gave a gentle. ‘Look at me. Please.’

It was the “please” that got him. Anakin reluctantly met Obi-Wan’s eyes, which held no judgement or disappointment he feared he would see.

‘I know we’ve had our differences. I certainly cannot control your life, nor what and who you love. But I want you to know that whatever decision you make—whether you choose to stay in the Order or decide that your future lies elsewhere—that you’re like a brother to me, and I will support you. The both of you, in that matter.’

Anakin gaped, genuinely taken aback. His chest swelled with warmth and happiness. His eyes became misty but he forced himself not to cry, despite how overwhelming all these emotions were.

‘Thanks, Master,’ Anakin replied, allowing a small grateful smile. ‘And likewise from me too.’

‘Thank you, young Padawan.’ Obi-Wan faced forward and spoke a little louder. ‘Is it a custom for a queen to eavesdrop upon a private conversation?’

‘Only when she needs to know if she can help her oldest and dearest friends,’ Padmé’s voice answered from behind a tree near them. She revealed herself from her hiding spot and walked up to Obi-Wan. ‘Obi-Wan, hearing this honestly means the world to me.’

Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgement, eyes sparkling with his grin.

Padmé continued. ‘I also want you to know that we extend the same support to you and Satine as well.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Obi-Wan deflected with a light tone. ‘Come, your Majesty, let’s return to the road. We should return to Naboo before sundown.’

Anakin and Padmé exchanged unconvinced looks before Anakin fetched his horse and they followed after. Unbeknownst to her, Padmé had in fact passed by the Flower during her search. It wasn’t in the flower patch but behind a fallen tree nearby, hidden beneath a basket of dead leaves and sticks painted green, crafted almost two hundred years prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaahhh I love Tangled so much that I couldn't help but write it as an AU for one of my favourite ships. Obviously I had to adjust the ages of the characters so it could fit the story better, but I think it'll be just as much fun and super cute.
> 
> Also, you'll have to forgive me for my flowery (no pun intended) language: I was a writing student and I just love using similes and metaphors!


	2. Chapter 2

_7 months before…_

Padmé clutched the reins a bit too tightly. Her knuckles turned white from her grip, which betrayed the calm composure she tried to maintain. Her brown piebald horse trotted at a calm pace along the stone-pathed street, unaware of its rider’s nervousness. Her breath puffed out as clouds of mist in front of her. She rode with her hood up and beneath her dark brown cloak, she had donned commoners’ clothes; loose brown pants, navy blue long-sleeved tunic, black boots, and brown woven vest. But it would be hard to identify her anyway since the darkness of night concealed her in shadows.

The moon bathed the buildings in a pale white glow that cast long shadows. Padmé and her horse followed the road as it gradually climbed up an incline, guided by the gentle yellow light of the oil lanterns which lined the main street. At the peak of the hill, the path lead to the gates of a castle, locked and guarded by two Royal Guards. As she approached the gates, the guards stood to attention, knocking their halberds against the ground.

‘Who goes there?’ the guard on the left barked.

‘State your business and intentions!’ the guard on the right ordered.

Padmé said nothing. She merely lifted her hood and let it fall back. Immediately, the guards dropped their defensive stances and knelt before her.

‘Your Majesty!’

‘Forgive us for our rudeness!’

‘You may rise. Worry not, for I am not offended,’ Padmé stated. ‘You were merely following the procedures of guard duty, and I thank you for it.’

The guards climbed to their feet and stood up straight. Upon her command, they opened the gates and she tapped her heels to prompt her horse to walk forwards. She rode to the stables and climbed down from her saddle in one smooth movement. A sleepy stable boy wandered over and relieved Padmé of her horse, who rubbed his eyes as he assured her that he didn’t mind being awoken for her.

Padmé was met at the main doors by the head butler, Mr. Cicero Threepio, or Threepio as everyone called him. Despite the time of night, Threepio was still dressed in his yellow butler’s suit and his amber eyes were still as round and bright as the light reflecting off the top of his bald head. The entrance hall was lit by hanging oil lanterns, but darkness filled the branching-off hallways.

‘Welcome home, Queen Amidala!’ he greeted. Threepio shut the doors behind Padmé and she sighed, some of the tension easing from her.

‘Thank you, Threepio,’ she answered tiredly.

‘If you will follow me, I will take you to the king,’ Threepio continued, gesturing down one of the hallways.

‘Where is he?’ she asked.

‘In the bed chambers, your Majesty.’ He picked up one of the oil lanterns and carried it with him as Padmé walked just behind. They climbed the stone stairs up into the second floor of the castle and wandered down another corridor. They reached a series of doors lining the sides of the hallway, in which they stopped at the third door. Light poured out from underneath the door. Threepio knocked loudly. A voice called out from inside, ‘ _Enter!_ ’

Threepio turned the latch and it swung open. ‘Your Majesty, Queen Amidala has returned,’ he announced.

Padmé stepped around the butler and entered the room. Anakin Skywalker stood in the middle of the room. His posture was rigid and his arms were crossed. His hair, now long enough to reveal its waviness, appeared tangled on one side—the side Padmé knew he ran his hand through when he was nervous. Small worry-lines creased his forehead and the corners of his mouth, emphasised in the light of the fireplace crackling opposite the four-poster bed. He still wore his Jedi uniform, but they were hidden underneath his brown outer robes.

‘Thank heavens…’ Anakin sighed. He didn’t hesitate as he rushed towards her and embraced her tightly. She returned the hug, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. ‘I was so worried about you…’ he murmured.

‘I’m sorry, Ani,’ Padmé said, her voice muffled by his tunic. He pulled back and took her hands in his. His skin felt like fire against the chill of her own. She hadn’t noticed how cold she was until the warmth of the room blanketed her and a shiver prickled her skin with goosebumps.

‘Padmé, you’re freezing!’ He rubbed her hands between his and turned to the butler. ‘Threepio, boil some water for tea and bring a bed warmer.’

‘Yes, your Majesty,’ Threepio replied.

Once the servant had closed the door behind him, Anakin gently guided Padmé to sit down on the bed while he wandered over in the wardrobe. A moment later he walked out with a wool blanket in hand. He draped it over her shoulders and rubbed her arms.

‘That’ll have to do for now,’ Anakin decided. ‘It’ll keep you warm enough until Threepio comes back.'

Padmé stayed quiet, only tugging the blankets tighter around herself as she trembled, from both shivers and from nervousness. Anakin noticed and he frowned, worry-lines reappearing. ‘Padmé, what’s wrong? Is this about why you went out today?’ He asked uncertainly. ‘Why were you out so late?’

Padmé took a moment to answer. ‘I just had to be sure of something,’ she stated.

‘Sure of what?’ Anakin sat down on the bed beside her and put his hand over hers, giving it a soft squeeze. ‘You can tell me Padmé, you can always trust me. I promise that I won’t get upset if that’s what worrying you—’

‘No!’ Padmé burst, then cleared her throat and spoke more quietly. ‘I mean, it’s not something that’ll make you upset, well at least I hope it won’t make you upset…’

Her mind leapt back to three years ago, when they were in the Ahch-To Forest and Anakin had first proposed to her. He hadn’t disappointed her back then, so why should he now? What she needed was a little courage and a little faith. To find her bravery and belief, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the japor snippet hanging from her neck. Her worries calmed slightly as she traced the patterns carved into the japor wood, reminded of memories of loyalty and long-lasting friendship.

‘I travelled to D’Qar to visit the monastery and to see Sister Kanata. I didn’t want rumours being spread around and I know I could trust Maz to keep everything confidential. I requested that she examine me and… she confirmed my suspicions.’

He waited—he did fidget subconsciously with his finger tapping against his leg and his body constantly shifting—but he didn’t say anything to press her to answer immediately. _Faith not unfounded,_ she thought.

She let go of the snippet and took his tapping hand in hers. She took a breath, collected herself, and spoke.

‘Anakin… I’m pregnant.’

Padmé looked up at her husband, her heart beating hard while her shoulders felt lighter. While Anakin couldn’t sit still before, now he was completely frozen. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he stared at his wife in astonishment.

‘Anakin?’ she prompted worriedly. ‘You’re worrying me… Say something, please…’

‘…You’re pregnant?’ he finally said, glancing down at her abdomen then back up at her in disbelief. He wouldn't have seen anything—the bump wasn’t obvious yet and her loose clothes also helped hide any traces.

Padmé nodded unsurely. ‘I’m about two months along. According to Sister Kanata, everything seems to being going well so far, and there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with the babies.’

‘Babies?’ Anakin echoed.

‘Sister Kanata says she heard two heartbeats, so she’s sure it’ll be twins.’

‘Twins…’ he repeated.

Padmé waited for him to recover. It took another silent minute to pass until Anakin broke the ice. Slowly, an awestruck smile grew on his face. He lifted his hand and caressed her face, a joyous laugh bubbling out of him. Over the years she would only tell three people about this, but her heart skipped a beat whenever he had that rare shy smile of complete and utter joy.

‘You’re pregnant!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re carrying our babies! We’re going to have children! Padmé, this is amazing!’

‘You think so?’ Padmé asked, a grin spreading on her own face as her eyes became misty.

‘Yes, of course I do! It’s incredible! You’re incredible! You are an utter star!’

Anakin jumped to his feet, pulling Padmé up with him, and held her hands as he hopped around her. She laughed as she was twirled around. Tears of happiness washed over the brink and trailed down her cheeks, which sparkled like stars in the light. She tugged him forwards and he went willing into her arms, where they hugged and swayed.

During this moment, the door opened and Threepio returned, tea-tray balanced on one hand and the other holding the bed warmer. He stared at them with big round eyes.

‘Oh my! What is going on? Why is everyone celebrating?’ Threepio questioned, bemused and flustered.

The pair continued to sway and laugh, too caught up in their joy to notice the butler. Threepio could only watch in confusion as Padmé and Anakin shone so bright, like twin suns caught in each other’s orbits. And their combined light was so so blinding.

 

_4 months before…_

Anakin raised the lantern higher, casting the yellow glow onto the trees around him. The Ahch-To Forest loomed around him with tall shadows in all directions. To his far left and far right, similar lantern glows swung around, with sticks snapping and bushes rustling from the search of his people. The occasional shout echoed out into the night, but none said what he wanted to hear.

For two months, Padmé had been well. Her cheeks were filled with a healthy blush, and she was experiencing all the expect symptoms and changes of pregnancy: increased weight, growing belly, strange cravings in the middle of the night. She practically glowed with good health and happiness.

It took a month for their good fortune to change. Suddenly she grew paler and her weight dropped. She became more and more unable to stomach meals until she couldn’t keep anything down except for tea and water. Her skin would switch between burning-hot fever to cold and clammy within the span of a few hours. When she slept, her sleep was wracked with nightmares, leaving her calling out Anakin’s name in hoarse whispers. That brilliant mind retreated from the malady—the times when she was conscious, they had to keep the questions simple or else she became confused and tired. She was burning out fast.

Anakin sent letters to every doctor in the kingdom and every doctor in every surrounding kingdom; none of them knew what illness had befallen Queen Padmé, and none knew how to cure her. He even begged Obi-Wan to visit the Library of the Jedi Order and search the ancient texts for a cure. It broke both their hearts when Obi-Wan informed him that three searches had resulted in nothing. As Anakin saw the last doctor out—the man extending his premature condolences—he slammed the door in his frustration, only regretting that the sound stirred Padmé in her near-coma sleep.

At this point, Anakin was desperate to save his family. Desperate enough to place all remaining odds upon a miracle—or, in this case, a fairytale. So he gathered as many guards and volunteers as possible and together they all wandered into the Ahch-To Forest, in search of the Golden Flower. Many doubted its existence but no one questioned the king; out of respect and sympathy of him, and out of love and loyalty to their beloved queen.

Anakin pressed on, shoving away branches that caught his black robes and pushing through any foliage in his way. Anger frothed inside him as his heart beat in his throat. How could the world do this? How could it be so cruel? Anakin had first met Padmé when he was a just a child. He had grown up a slave—forced to hammer ironworks and fix whatever tools or carts dumped into the tiny overcrowded workshop—with no one to call a friend. His mother had died when he was younger and his father was never in the picture. In the workshop, all the windows were bordered up so none of the slaves could sneak out. Only slivers of natural light slipped in through the gaps between the boards.

And then Padmé came along. Along with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jin, the three of them rescued him from slavery once Qui-Gon realised the potential he had. In the time they'd spent together, they had all showed him such a kindness he was not accustomed to, and respect for him and his well-being. He would never forget when Padmé became the first person to treat him as an equal, rather than a clueless child or idiot inferior. She shone into his world and his heart like the sunrise after a long night, lighting everything up so he could see for the first time.

Now the world was trying to destroy her sunlight, and he knew he wouldn't be the only one to miss her warm glow.

Coming to a stop, Anakin forced himself to breathe deeply. Obi-Wan was right: his anger wouldn't help his search—it would only cloud his vision and close his mind.

Then he remembered the training sessions with Obi-Wan. A Jedi could connect their mind with their surroundings and link to other living things. Perhaps it would help here.

Anakin closed his eyes and extended his senses. At first, everything felt so big and overwhelming. So many living things around for his mind to link with. But the vastness failed to phase him as he refined his sight like he was taught to. In the forest around him, he felt something living flowing through everything, like a river of life beneath the surface.

He pinpointed the direction currents pulsed from, but ahead he saw nothing. With the light of his lantern, the light pollution would affect his night-vision and make it harder to spot the Flower. He needed to pass through darkness in order to see its light. But he wondered if he trust his senses and himself enough to navigate the forest.

Decision made, Anakin put down his lantern and wondered into the darkness, letting his instincts guide him. He had to find it. He had not other choice. He needed to save her. He had to try.

*  *  *  *  *

Sheev Palpatine trudged through the forest. He stepped over the same aerial roots and fallen logs with muscle memory as he made a bee-line towards his destination. His skin was taut against his spindly muscles and bones, and had an unhealthy paleness that made him clenched his fists and teeth. Though his outer composure remained calm—his pallidness would be fixed once again.

Shoving the bushes apart, Palpatine strode into the clearing he’d been visiting for over two hundred years. He ignored the pustule of useless weeds, crushing them under his feet as he walked straight through the centre. He stopped at the old fallen tree on the other side. As he stepped over it and struggled to crouch down, his knees and joints cracked loudly and he groused under his breath.

Palpatine smirked as he gazed down at the Golden Flower hidden beneath. He ran his fingers along its leaves. Its dried edges curled into a threatening wither and scraped against his hand. No matter; the Flower itself was still as bright and radiant as ever, and still healed him whenever he demanded.

Speaking of demands, Palpatine pulled his hood back. The natural glow of the flower illuminated his ghoulish face. Anticipation sparked his heart to beat faster and harder. He inhaled deeply—his ageing lungs aching in protest—and he began to sing:

_Flower, gleam and glow,_  
_Let your power shine;_  
_Make the clock reverse,_  
_Bring back what once was mine._  
_Heal that has been hurt,_  
_Change the fate’s design;_  
_Save what has been lost,_  
_Bring back what once was mine._  
_What once was mine…_

From the first line of lyrics, the Flower had began to shine. Its yellow light shimmered in its petals and floated upwards in small glowing particles. Like a galaxy of fireflies, the particles hovered around and circled the Flower, dancing with each other in an immaculate performance. Towards the last two lines, the lights floated closer together until they formed a tiny shining star right before him.

Then it scattered and soared upwards. The particles flew towards the nearest living creature in need of healing—which happened to be the old withered man before them. The light touched Palpatine’s sickly flesh and was absorbed into his body.

Almost instantly, the colour returned to his skin and his muscles plumped up. The wrinkles on his face and the tautness of his hands were soothed away until he now resided in a fresh young body.

Standing up with ease, he sighed in relief. He ran his hands through his auburn hair, no longer white and as fragile as before, and savoured the right of his renewed youth. He examined his hands, admiring how full and dexterous they were. He always enjoyed luxuriating in the moment after his rejuvenation.

A stick snapped nearby and Palpatine whipped around. He stared in the direction of the snap’s source, listening carefully. He heard footsteps become louder as they drew closer. He scowled. How dare someone interrupt his moment? He replaced the basket over the Flower and fled into the trees. He pressed his back against a tree and watched the glade carefully, safely concealed by the darkness.

*  *  *  *  *

Anakin stopped in surprise as he entered a familiar place within the Ahch-To Forest. He hadn’t seen clearing in many years but the memory of this place remained vivid in his mind. Everything looked different at night, so everything was distorted into elongated shaped defined by shadows. Even the ridiculously colourful flower patch appeared eerie in the darkness. But he didn’t have time to reminiscence, he had a golden flower to find.

The trail definitely ended here. This was the heart of the forest; the flow of life and energy swirled and pumped out from here. His vision had adjusted to the darkness by now, so he began searching immediately. He ignored the flowers in the middle—reasoning that if the flower had been amongst them, then Padmé would have found it back then—and searched the outskirts.

Anakin had done two laps of the clearing before he halted again. A detail from the fairytale came to mind that struck him as odd. Wasn’t the Flower supposed to be glowing? He glanced around for light. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Therefore it must be hidden. He frowned. He didn’t know how much time Padmé had left, and looking under every bush and tree nearby could take too long.

Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and opened his mind again. He narrowed the channel to cut out most of the overwhelming yet unnecessary input. Amongst the buzzing motion of life, an inaudible hum beat and pulsed, like a beacon calling out to him. He put all his focus on the tone, only for his eyes to snap wide open and for him to glance down.

On his belt, the Saber of Light blinked in time with the pulse. Anakin unlatched the handle and extended the blade, holding it out in front of him in astonishment. The crystal blade’s blue light pierced through the darkness. With each flash, he felt a tug from deep within his heart— from within his soul—towards the other side of the glade.

Enchanted and astounded by the phenomenon, Anakin’s feet stumbled forward with the pull and snapped him out of his trance. He furrowed his brow in determination. He moved towards the tug, watching as the blade’s light blinked brighter. As the flashes grew closer together, he lowered the Saber of Light and broke into a run. He knew where it was.

Anakin vaulted over the fallen log. His eyes flicked around until he spotted what was out of place. He snatched up the fake foliage and tossed the basket over his shoulder. His breath shuddered to a stop.

Anakin gazed upon the Golden Flower. Its light shimmered from its petals in glowing waves, each wave blinking in time with the Saber of Light’s crystal blade. He allowed himself a moment to watch the blade and flower in sync. Maybe it was just his imagination but a sense of longing and hope radiated from the Flower, as if it felt trapped and starved and his arrival livened its spirits. He shook his head and refocused on reality. How was he going to get the Flower to Padmé? He didn’t dare cut it in case it damaged it beyond use. He didn’t know the rules to moving plants, let alone a magical one. Thinking quickly, he came up with a solution.

Resolute, Anakin raised the Saber of Light above his head, prayed to the Force that shaped and guided the world, and stabbed the blade into the ground.

*  *  *  *  *

Everyone in the search party stared in collective shock as Anakin carried the Flower out of the forest, leaves and roots and all. Then, once the surprise wore off enough for them to stop their mouths hanging open, many merely shrugged and followed after the king—because it was _Anakin bloody Skywalker_ and if anyone was fortunate enough (or stubborn enough) to find a legend, it was obviously going to be him.

One volunteer approached Anakin amidst the stunned silence and handed him a pot to carry the Flower in. Anakin had gazed down upon the boy with gratitude and thanked him, before he climbed onto his horse and rode away. The boy stood silently as he watched the horse gallop away, filled with admiration and happiness. That was until his guardians yanked him back and scolded him for daring to waste the king’s precious time with his own worthless presence.

Anakin didn't stop or slow down on his way back to the castle. People inside their homes stirred at the sound of a galloping horse racing past, but by the time they looked outside the horse and its rider were long gone. The front guards recognised the king and his horse and gates were flung open in time so he didn’t need to slow down. When he reached the front doors, he leapt off the horse and rushed to the door. He halted just before he ran into the doors, and glared at them for not being open. He curled up his free fist and banged on the wood.

‘Welcome home, your Majesty!’ Threepio greeted cheerfully. ‘The Queen will be pleased to hear that King Anakin has returned—’

Anakin pushed past the butler and hurried through the front hall. Behind him, Anakin didn’t acknowledge Threepio exclaiming “How rude!” as he rushed down the corridor. In the hallway outside the bed chambers, he was met by a few handmaids waited, exchanging looks of concern. All but the youngest one, the one with black hair, curtsied and bowed their heads in his presence.

‘Here, take this flower and brew it into a tea,’ Anakin instructed swiftly, handing the flower to the one who hadn’t curtsied. The young handmaid nodded and ran off without hesitation while the other dwelled a little longer before following after.

Anakin stood in front of the door for a moment. Fear and concern tightened his chest until he felt like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs. He pushed through his hesitation and reached out for the latch with a shaky hand. It clanked when he turned it and the door creaked as it swung back.

Fire crackled in the fireplace, lighting the room with an orange and yellow hue. Over on the bed, Queen Padmé lay beneath the blankets and sheets. Her hands rested against her sternum; her arms were only covered by the sleeves of her blue nightdress. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her brow furrowed as incoherent murmurs escaped from her sleeping form.

Anakin found himself automatically walking to the bed, where he sat on a chair next to it. He placed his hand over hers and drew circles on her skin with his thumb. Padmé stirred, disturbed for a moment by the contact. But then she calmed. Her hand intertwined with his and she whispered his name in a quiet breath. He lifted their hands to his face and he kissed the back of hers.

‘Hold on, Padmé…’ he muttered. ‘Everything is going to be okay…’

There was a knock on the door and a second later it opened. The handmaid from before strode in with a steaming teapot and a bowl in hand. She sat down next to Anakin, on the other chair by the bed. He reluctantly place Padmé hand back and let go.

‘What is your name, my lady?’ he asked.

‘Breha, your Majesty,’ the handmaid replied as she handed him the bowl.

‘Breha, thank you…’

‘I’m happy to help, sir.’

Anakin held out the bowl as Breha tipped the teapot forwards. Out of the spout light shone from the golden liquid that poured out. It sparkled and swirled in the bowl as it illuminated Anakin and Breha’s curious faces. She put the teapot down on the bedside table. He dipped a finger into the potion and snatched his hand back.

‘Ow!’ he yelped, shaking his hand in the air. ‘It needs to cool down.’

An uneasy silence fell upon the room. Anakin’s finger tapped against the bowl and his leg bounced up and down. The sound was annoying but to her credit, Breha didn’t complain once—either because she knew how worried he was and/or the fact that he was the king.

‘Breha…’ Anakin caught her attention. ‘Do you think this’ll work?’

The handmaid was silent, a contemplating expression on her face. ‘I think that Queen Padmé is a strong woman,’ Breha answered carefully. ‘And that miracles can happen even in the most darkest of times. That’s what I believe.’

Anakin didn’t respond to this. He glanced down at Padmé with soft eyes and worry-lines worked into his face. ‘You may leave now, Breha,’ he said to the handmaid. ‘Go get some rest. It’s been a long night.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need me here?’ He shook his head. ‘Then yes, your Majesty.’

Breha stood up and wandered over to the door. She opened the door and stepped through. Before she left, she turned around and mentioned, ‘If you need anything, you can call for us and we’ll come right away. Good night, sir…’

Anakin blinked as the door closed behind her. He put the bowl down and shuffled his chair closer. When he dipped his finger again, the golden liquid felt warm and pleasant against his skin. He shook his wife gently by the shoulders until Padmé’s eyes fluttered partially open.

‘Anakin…’ she croaked, her gaze unfocused and voice weak.

‘It’s okay, my love,’ he soothed, cupping her cheek. ‘Just drink this and you’ll feel better. I promise.’

Anakin lifted the bowl and slowly brought it to Padmé lips. She struggled to lift her head so he helped her raise it enough to reach the edge. Her body clearly needed hydration since her eyes opened a little wider and she began to gulp a long unbroken draught of the potion. A sense of solace eased his concerns a bit when she swallowed all of the drink. He lay her head back down on the pillow and whispered for her to return to sleep.

‘Anakin… I love you…’ she murmured. Her voice trailed off as sleep overtook her once more. He leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.

‘I love you too…’ he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if she could hear him or not.

Anakin sat by her side for the whole night. He refused to leave, even when prompted by others concerned for his own well-being. Why he stayed so long was more than just proving his loyalty to her—he stayed so someone would be there if the sun ever did set.

*  *  *  *  *

Anakin awoke to a hand running lovingly through his hair. He blinked and squinted against the morning light that poured in through the crack in the curtains. His back and neck complained from sleeping in a hard chair, though now he rested in something soft.

‘Hey…’ a warm familiar voice murmured. ‘Wake up, sleepyhead…’

He mumbled a muffled “too bright” into the pillow while his mind struggled to wake up. The voice chuckled. He looked up at some kind of ethereal being with light radiating from behind them. He squinted. That wasn’t right…

Anakin blinked and the blurriness cleared away. The features of the ethereal being became defined until he saw that it had been Padmé along, sitting up in bed and gazing down at him. Of course she would look like a goddess in the morning light. He smiled at her and let out a happy sigh.

It took another moment before his mind caught up with the waking world.

Anakin sat up abruptly and stared at her, wide eyed. ‘Padmé!’ he cried out. Padmé looked back, calm and collected. The colour had returned to her face, her cheeks full of a natural blush she’d developed during her pregnancy. Her eyes shone with light and life, no longer unfocused. All traces of the mysterious illness had disappeared and she now sat beside him as bright as ever.

His hands hovered before her, as if he wasn’t sure he could touch her without the sight before him fading. Shoving his fear down, he reached out and cupped her cheek. Her skin was warm under his hand, which was enough to convince him of how real it all was. He moved and held her face in both hands, a choked laugh bursting from him.

‘You’re alive! You’re okay!’ he exclaimed. ‘It worked! It really worked!’ His vision became blurred again, only this time it was from the tears welling in his eyes. A big grin spread across Padmé’s face as she covered one of his hands with hers. Laughter bubbled from her as her own eyes sparkled from unshed tears. She reached out and yanked him forward, holding him close in her embrace as she kissed him. He hugged her back just as tightly, pouring as much love and happiness into the kiss as he could. She was here. She was alright. Everything really was going to be okay.

‘Of course I am. You saved me…’ She pulled back and beamed at him. ‘How did you do it?’

‘It’s a long story, and it starts with you.’

 

_The day before…_

When the day itself arrived, it was so early in the morning the sky hadn’t even begun to turn orange yet. Padmé awoke suddenly to the crisp summer air, confused to why she had roused so early. When she tried to return to sleep, she groaned as pain surged in her abdomen and lower back. She sat up and clutched her bump as she reached over and shook Anakin.

‘Ani! Ani, wake up!’ she exclaimed.

His eyes blinked open, though they were still dull and unfocused.

‘Padmé? What is it? What’s going on?’ he slurred.

‘I think I'm going into labour!’

‘ _WHAT?!_ ’

Anakin’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright. Padmé shuffled across the bed and swung her legs over the side, only to wince and wobble when she tried to get to her feet. He leapt from the bed, took her elbows, and assisted her in standing. He asked tensely, ‘Are you sure? It could be just those false contractions the midwife mentioned!’

Just as Padmé had taken a few steps, she gasped, which was followed by a splash. They both looked down to see a puddle on the ground right at her now-wet bare feet.

‘Yes,’ she answered, just as taken aback as he was. ‘I’m quite certain.’

Anakin glanced between the puddle, the bump, and her face. Bewilderment passed and a look of certainty appeared on his face.

‘I’ll go get the midwife,’ he informed steadily. ‘You just stay here, I’ll be right back!’

He waited until she nodded before he rushed out of the room. While waiting, she waddled over to the wardrobe. She pulled out some clean sheets and some towels, then wandered back over to the bed where she dropped a towel onto the puddle. She had just put the sheets and towels on the bed when another contraction struck. Grimacing, she leaned over the bed and forced herself to breathe, braving the pain.

_It’s only going to get worse from here…_ she thought sardonically.

The door swung open and Anakin stepped back into the room, followed by two women, one of whom was the midwife with the other being a nurse. He offered his arms and Padmé held onto them, pressing her face against his sternum.

‘That’s it, just breathe…’ he reassured. He rubbed soothing circles on her back and pressed his cheek against her head.

While he supported Padmé, the midwife and nurse worked to set the towels and sheets over the bed. When they had finished, the two women approached the couple, the nurse taking Padmé off Anakin’s hands and leading her to the bed. The midwife looked up at Anakin with a stern stare, waited, and then frowned in disapproval. He glanced back down at her with a raised eyebrow. The midwife visibly ruffled, then she stiffly requested, ‘your Majesty, could you please wait outside?’

‘What?’ Anakin responded. ‘Why?’

‘The father usually waits outside while the mother is in labour,’ she stated.

‘That’s ridiculous!’ he exclaimed. ‘This isn’t fair, I’m the father and Padmé’s my wife! I want to be here! For her and for our babies!’

‘Regardless of what you want, your Majesty,’ the midwife persisted. ‘It’s still the tradition and I hope you’re gracious enough to respect that.’

Before he could argue further, she bustled him out of the room and shut the door. He muttered profanity under his breath and leaned back against the opposite wall, a foul temper building.

An hour passed and Anakin was still waiting outside, with Mr. Threepio, Breha, and the Royal Advisor, Bail Organa, to keep him company. The tense wait was nearly unbearable—only nearly because it was mildly distracting (and entertaining) to guess how much paler Threepio could get before he straight-up faints. Anakin found his “respect” for the fathers-wait-outside crumbled further with each pained cry he heard from his wife. Until now, it had been all just groans and screams through clenched teeth, but then a coherent shout called out.

‘ _Anakin!_ ’ Padmé cried out from inside. ‘ _Please, I need you here! Anakin!_ ’

The temper shattered through his patience and a renewed determination swelled in his chest.

_Screw traditions!_ Anakin decided. _If she wants him to be there, then there he will be!_

Anakin marched up to the door, swung it open, and strode in. When the midwife tried to protest, he gave her his harshest and most furious glare—the one that made foot-soldiers tremble and struck fear into the heart’s of even the hardiest of his enemies. The result of his intimidating stare caused the midwife to snap her mouth shut and nod in compliance.

And just like with her illness, Anakin stayed by Padmé’s side throughout the whole birth. He held her hand and let her squeeze it with the strength she refused to use against anyone, but he bore it without complaint since her pain was worse. Afterwards, when the pain was over and the mess cleaned up, Padmé cradled both their children in her arms as the sun peeked up from the horizon. The babies had hair long enough that it could be tied back into a tiny ponytail, however the one in her right arm had light brown hair a shade or two lighter than the other. The baby on the left had golden hair that glimmered in the morning light. However the colour of their hair didn’t matter, because to Padmé and Anakin, they were absolutely _perfect_.

Anakin couldn’t take his eyes away from neither the precious newborns nor the impossible goddess he was honoured to call his wife. An air of disbelief still surrounded him. He actually helped create life—these two infant creatures were brought into this world by a wonderful mother, and they also happened to share blood with him. They were _their children_.

The urge to hold the twins in his own arms washed over him. He wanted to cradle them close and feel how very real and alive these little miracles were, especially after such a close call a few months before. He moved his hand slowly towards the golden haired baby.

_Useless brat! You can’t touch anything without breaking it!_ A harsh male voice echoed from the past. He snatched his hand back and frowned, shaking his head. No, not now. Don’t ruin this…

He tried to block it out but the memories flooded in until a drove of voices overlapped in his head.

_Get back to work, slave!_

_Don’t touch me, you disgusting mongrel!_

_I don’t want filthy slave’s blood tainting my grandchildren!_

_You’re never going to be anything!_

_You can’t create, stupid boy, you can only destroy!_

Padmé glanced up to see Anakin’s eyes become clouded, his face paling as he became unfocused. Her stomach dropped.

‘Ani,’ she said. He didn’t responded. She didn’t break through the memories, so she raised her voice a little louder. ‘Anakin!’

Anakin glanced over to her and blinked rapidly. Padmé waited for his hyperventilating breaths to slow and the awareness to trickle back in. He still had a slight tremble though, and Padmé wished she could take his hand and comfort him through the attack, but her hands were full. Then an idea struck her.

‘Would you like to hold your son, Ani?’

Anakin stared mutely, then eventually he muttered, ‘I dunno if that’s a good idea. I mean, I might not hold him the right way or I could drop him or hurt him or—’

‘Anakin…’ Padmé looked him in the eyes, projecting as much strength and trust as she could into her gaze. ‘You’re more than what they said you were. Those slave owners were horrible people who released their hatred onto innocent children like you. Your past doesn’t change the fact that you’re a brave loving man who I trust with my whole heart. And look…’

She held towards him the baby with golden hair. The baby stirred as he was moved, then he opened his eyes. Blue. A beautiful shade of blue, just like his father’s.

‘He even looks like you. I know you, and I know you’re not going to hurt him. I promise. Trust me on this one…’

There was a moment where Anakin hesitated, not moving at all, and Padmé feared that his trauma and the attack were too strong today. However then he reached forwards and lifted the baby out of her arm with a delicate hold.

He cradled his son to his chest, gazing down at him. The baby blinked up at his father and squirmed, and for a moment Anakin thought that he was going to cry. Instead, the baby reached up a tiny hand, wiggling his tiny fingers. Instinctively, Anakin held his own free hand. The child touched Anakin’s hand and wrapped his short fingers around his father’s index finger.

A small contented coo peeped out of the boy, and that rare shy smile Padmé loved so much spread over Anakin’s face. He breathed out a soft laugh of awe and joy, which sounded better than any music an opera or orchestra could produce.

Amidst his happiness, Anakin glanced over to Padmé. ‘We haven’t even given them names yet!’ he realised.

‘Yeah, we haven’t,’ Padmé agreed. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot, and I like the name Luke for this baby boy.’

‘Luke? Isn’t that a bit common?’ Anakin commented.

Padmé shrugged. ‘Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less of a nice name.’

‘Alright, alright…’

A short silence fell. It broke when Padmé asked, ‘Do you have a name in mind for our baby girl?’

After some consideration, he answered, ‘Leia. After the fierce dragon slayer from that old fairytale. The one I loved to hear when I was a kid.’

‘I love the alliteration between their names: little Luke and Leia.’

‘So Luke and Leia it is, then.’

Anakin leaned his head down to his son. He pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead and whispered, ‘Hello, Luke. Welcome to the world…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this chapter got away from me! It was meant to be shorter but Anakin and Padmé demanded more screen-time and I was more than happy to oblige. It's been so much fun exploring their characters and letting them interact with this setting and each other. 
> 
> And here are my two favourite twins, making their appearance for the first time in this fic! I look forward to writing them both later on!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying this AU fic so far. I really appreciate constructive feedback so I'd love to hear what parts you liked and where I could improve. And if you're too shy to comment, leaving a kudos even as a guest would be more than enough to let me know!


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